


Write Me A Love Song

by Sapphire_blue



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 07:26:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4820492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_blue/pseuds/Sapphire_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love isn’t brains. It’s your heart; your heart screaming inside its cage to work its will. And when it comes to Arya, his heart has always won in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Write Me A Love Song

Jon loves writing. It is a universal fact. He loves writing, and weaving the letters together to tell a story makes him content in a way most other things do not. So, too bad if anyone thinks  they are rubbish. (Hah! In your stupid face, Greyjoy!) Though, he has been repeatedly assured that his poems are beautiful. Mostly by Arya, but Arya is the one that matters the most to him so that is all he needs, really.

He is fourteen when he decides that he loves writing. Well, he is fourteen when he discovers that he loves writing. They are songs, mostly. Songs that he has decided would never see the light of the day before Arya finds him strumming his guitar in his bedroom and snarks at him until he lets her see his songbook.

“These are actually good,” she says, eyes raking over the pages calmly.

“Always the tone of surprise,” Jon replies, rolling his eyes, before her mother comes and calls them both down for dinner. Jon thinks that is to be the end of it, except, the next day, Arya strolls into his room and stares at him expectantly until he brings out the songbook and she puts a pen in his hands.

“Write me a love song,” she tells him, and he hugs her with the promise of someday.

 

(Even at the age of twelve, Arya has Jon wrapped around her little finger)

 

*    *    *

 

Jon leaves first.

“You’re gonna meet new friends and you’ll forget all about me,” Arya pouts at him, grey eyes betraying her mirth.

Jon rolls his eyes in exasperation, “I went through high school without you, and tell me, did I suddenly have a new best friend?”

“Well,” Arya pauses, “No. But we lived side by side then, and you had my delightful company for the last two years of your miserable high school life.”

“Arya,” He says seriously, waiting until she meets his eyes, “Just because I’m going to university and living in the dorms does not mean I’ll forget about you. You’ll always be my best girl, you know that, right?”

She nods, but it seems half-hearted, so he tilts her chin up and presses his lips to the corner of her mouth, and feels her lips curving upwards in a smile. He tucks her in his arms in a final hug, ignoring the calls from their father to get in the car.

“And, you can always join me at Westminster in two years,” he mutters in her hair.

Arya leans back, looking up at him with a smile still tugging at her lips, “At your fancy law school? No, thanks.  You know where my interests lie.”

“Ah,” Jon nods sagely, “Acting. You’ll be the most beautiful actress on the stage.”

She rolls her eyes, but then she is looking up at him again, staring into his eyes with a seriousness that seems somehow wrong on her, “You do love me, right?”

“You’re my best girl,” he tells her again, hoping that she would take that as an answer.

She does.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with that of her own.

She smiles at him sadly, “I already do.”

 

(He never tells her that he loves her)

 

*    *    *

 

He meets Ygritte at Westminster. Ygritte is funny, and stubborn and she reminds him of Arya. But Arya is his little sister, and no matter how much he loves her, he can never have her. Ygritte is the closest he can get to being with Arya.

He tells Arya about Ygritte with a forced calmness in his voice, and when Arya speaks, her voice is laced with pain.

Jon forces himself to ignore the pain. They are not children anymore, and he can never have what he wants the most.

 

(It never occurs to him to ask what Arya wants)

 

  *    *    *

 

He is the first one she tells when she gets her acceptance letter from RADA.

“I got in!” She cheers loudly the moment he picks up the phone.

“I told you that you would!” He says, “How are you celebrating?”

“Dunno,” he can practically hear her shrug, “You’re the first one I told.”

“Thank you,” he says, touched deeply.

“Well, I’m your best girl, aren’t I?” Arya pauses for a moment, and when he doesn’t answer, continues on, pushing the words out almost ruthlessly, “I’ll be celebrating with my friends. Getting drunk and singing very loudly, you know.”

That snubs the cheerfulness from Jon's posture in a second.

“Getting drunk with your friends, is it?” He almost growls, gritting his teeth with so much force that it hurts, “Would that also include Ned Dayne?”

“Of course,” she answers with faked nonchalance, “Of course Ned will be there.”

“Ned I-fancy-the-pants-off-you Dayne?” He snarls, the hand not holding with the phone curling into a fist.

“Yes,” Arya grits out, “ _That_ Ned.”

“You can’t!” Jon shouts into the phone.

“Yeah?” Arya seethes, “Watch me!”

She hangs up the phone, and he doesn’t call her back.

 

Arya isn’t his to love, his brain tells him, but love isn’t brains. It’s your heart; your heart screaming inside its cage to work its will. And when it comes to Arya, his heart has always won in the end.

 

(He breaks it off with Ygritte two days later)

 

*    *    *

 

She does come to RADA, and their flats are within a walking distance of each other.  They quickly fall back into being JonandArya. But there is something different between them now. There are stolen kisses and muttered apologies, and a few days of pretending nothing has changed. Then the cycle repeats again.

He strums his guitar in his bedroom and she sings with him and everything is perfect just for a little wile.

“Little sister,” he calls her in front of all their friends.

“Run away with me,” he begs her when all they have is each other.

 

(Jon thinks he could build a mountain from the secrets they keep between them and the words they never speak)

 

*    *    *

 

Jon gets the call at nine in the afternoon.

It wakes him up from the nap he has dozed off to, and he accepts the call with fumbling fingers, blinking up at the ceiling blearily. A crisp voice calls out to him from the other end of the line, and by the time the call has ended, Jon is trembling all over. He sits up shakily, and the news hits him with a new force strong enough to knock the wind out of him and he almost drops the floor onto the floor. He manages to cling to it, his knuckles turning white with the grip he has on it.

He sits in his sitting room so dazed, and stunned, and so broken until he gathers enough energy to stumble out of the flat and head to the hospital.

Everything passes in a blur. He identifies the body, of course he would know her anywhere, even when she is pale and almost lifeless and tucked gently into a bed.

The hospital tells him that he is her emergency contact. Of course he is her emergency contact, he wants to scoff, but his throat feels like a starched paper and he only manages to nod.

A case of a distracted driver ignoring the traffic light, the police tells him. _Arya is not a case_ , he wants to tell them but the words will not come out, and they leave him alone to deal with his grief.

He would have to tell their family, he thinks numbly, and he does not want to think about what that will be like. Arya is not dead, and there is still hope yet. But she is in a lot of pain, and he does not know how he, _they_ , are just supposed to watch her suffer.

 

He calls the family anyway, but the spark of life leaves Arya’s pale body before they can even reach the hospital.

 

(Arya is strong, but there are some fights that even she cannot win)

 

*    *    *

 

(“Write me a love song,” she would always say.

“I don’t love you,” he would tell her.

Both knew it was a lie, but they were both content to pretend it was not. They were living the lie, after all.

 

“Let’s run away,” he would always say.

“We can't,” she would tell him.

Neither was prepared to have hope. After all, hope made people do dangerous things.

 

“Have you ever been in love, Arya?” Her friends would ask her.

“Love is for those foolish enough to believe an illusion. I can never afford to be such a fool,” she would tell them.

Her friends would be offended, but eventually they would forgive her.

 

“Have you ever been in love, Jon?” His friends would ask him.

“Every day,” Jon would reply to their puzzlement.

His friends could never figure out who he meant.

 

 

He wrote her a love song the day she died and etched it into his skin)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm sorry it took me this long to write something new. I've been going through a rough time, and I promise I'm working on the other stories. Oh, and I know this story seems a little bit like my other story "Dancing In The Rain," but there are a few differences. That story focused on the moment when Jon found about her death, and this one is about what happened before that. They are not the same stories, as I've changed Arya's major to dancing and made them still siblings, but if you'd like to think of it that way, feel free to! And, the love song in question is Let Her Go by Passenger. But the one I had in mind is this one: [Let Her Go](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8tjixLbTlio)
> 
> As always, every kudos, bookmark and comment mean the world to me. I kind of read them over and over again when I feel low, so I'd really appreciate it if you leave a comment, even if it's just a few words. Constructive criticism is welcome, and if I have made a mistake anywhere, please tell me so I can fix it. Thank you!
> 
> Cheers,  
> Sapphire xx


End file.
